


Symphony of the Blade

by TotallyNotRei



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda ish?, Dean as Cain, First Blade, Mark of Cain, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyNotRei/pseuds/TotallyNotRei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"From the moment Dean Winchester had the First Blade pressed into his unwilling hand to the second Crowley whisked it away, the Mark had sung."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symphony of the Blade

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet had no beta, so any and all mistakes are solely on me.

From the moment Dean Winchester had the First Blade pressed into his unwilling hand to the second Crowley whisked it away, the Mark had sung. The sheer overwhelming sensation the rocketed from the tips of his calloused fingers to the soles of his feet made his body dance as the blade resonated with his soul, finalizing the bond with it’s new master.

The uproar of emotion that the blade brought into Dean’s body was immense. Waves upon waves of anger, resentment, and pain washed over him and made the hunter feel as if he were drowning in it all. His eyes rolled into his head, though from pain or pleasure the hunter was not sure.

“ _You’ll get used to it. You’ll even start to like it_.”

If Dean were to be completely honest, he had already begun to like it. Along with the anger and hatred came, the sheer complete feeling of power. Of the strength he had been wishing for- for what seemed like years now. With the Blade, Dean knew he could accomplish wondrous things. First and foremost would be to put a stop to Abaddon, but why would he stop there?

The first kill with the completed bond felt almost orgasmic, though he would tell not a soul. It was almost as if the warm blood that had run down the knife after he had sliced through Magnus’ neck so thoroughly was attempting to wash the blade of it’s past alliance with Cain, the true Cain, and form utterly into Dean.

A less animalistic side of his brain felt a small buzz of fear at that notion. He was the new Cain. The blade played within his body like the loudest of symphonies. Flutes praised him on his kill. Violins made sweet promises of so much more to come. Trombones begged to commit the act once more. Trumpets sounded their allegiance. And Sam shouted his name.

“Dean!”

The pandemonium that followed was almost unbearable. Bile rose up in Dean’s mouth as the flutes were brought to a sharp halt, the violins screeched in protest, the trombones stuttered to a stop, and the trumpets faded out into nothing but Sam. _Sam_.

“It’s over. Dean! ...Dean, drop the blade.”

As if he were waking from a particularly strange dream, Dean’s eyes had blinked as he tried to make sense of the blurs in shapes that surrounded him. He hissed in pain as the Mark of Cain burned the flesh on his forearm and his attention focused on the red soaked blade in his right hand. His arm shook as if it had a mind of it own and wanted very much to swing into action once more.

Peeling his fingers from the hilt was torture. It was like his skin had been molded to the handle. Finally, he let the the First Blade drop to the floor with a clatter, his breathing hard and ragged. His blurry, tired eyes found his brother. Dean didn’t know what he could possibly say.

The blade was dangerous. Dean would be dangerous, and as much as that thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, the hunter’s stomach dropped. Images of Sam flooded his mind- what if he ended up going off the rails like his little brother had? What if they couldn’t save him?

The Mark answered his questions with a warm hum that seemed to relax the hunter’s body, almost like a caress. His body yearned for the blade to return to his hand again though his mind wanted very much to kick the biblical relic as far away as he could.

 

What if Magnus was right. His body had already accepted the presence of the First Blade in his palm- how long would it be before his mind pledged itself to the damned thing as well?


End file.
